“Thank you for the kind offer.” I turn, plastering on a smile. “But I’m a vegetarian. I’d hate for you to have to deal with my dietary restrictions. Have a lovely day.”

Have a lovely day seems to make everything okay, like the time I told Kelsey, one of the X-ray techs, that her deodorant had worn off and she was emitting an offensive odor. At first she gasped, which led me to believe I’d worded the FYI incorrectly, but then I followed it up with “have a lovely day,” and she nodded slowly while hugging her arms to her chest. Aspies may not be best friends, but we are the most honest ones.

“Eli told me. Everything I made for brunch today is vegetarian with lots of cheese. He said you have a thing for cheese.”

He did, did he?

She has a better hand of cards today, so I take a deep breath and retreat toward the house. There is nothing I love more than spending time with strangers, eating food they make that I probably won’t like, and making small talk—the hardest thing in the world for me to do.

Lori leads me to her kitchen. It’s big and clean. Tons of food fills a buffet table behind a large dining room table adorned with a sprawling bouquet of fresh flowers, real plates and flatware, and cloth napkins. It looks like a nice restaurant. Even the trays of food are garnished with herb springs and fresh fruits.

“Whoa, this is quite the brunch. I honestly imagined coffee, bagels, bacon, and maybe a few donuts.”

“Sounds like continental breakfast at a hotel.” She laughs. “I’m all about presentation.”

Me too.

Only, I have to work really hard at it, and rarely do I one hundred percent nail it.

“Kent?” she calls out the back door. “Let’s eat. Bring Roman.”

“What can I get you to drink, Dorothy? Do you like mimosas?”

“Yes. But I’m driving so I’ll pass?”

“You can just do orange juice. It’s fresh squeezed.”

Fresh squeezed, as in she fondled the oranges and squeezed them … maybe with her hands. “I have my water bottle in my bag.” I pull it out of my handbag.

“You sure?”

I nod.

“Please, grab a plate and help yourself.”

First through the line. I can do this. Yes … she probably touched everything on these platters, but I choose to believe she wore gloves. And first through the line means no one else has had a chance to touch the food first or sneeze on it. I grab a plate and silverware. Real silverware, not the plastic kind that tastes like plastic. Yuck!

“Dorfee!” Roman rushes in with a tall, older version of Dr. Hawkins behind him—a few more wrinkles, gray mixed with dark blond hair, and a more pronounced receding hairline. He’s dressed in jeans and a Trailblazer sweatshirt.

“Dorothy, this is my husband Kent. Kent, this is Eli’s friend, Dorothy.”

“Papa, Dorfee is a superhero.” Roman reaches for a plate behind me. Kent quickly grabs it from him.

“Nice to meet you, Dorothy.” Dr. Hawkins has his father’s smile.

I return a genuine grin. It isn’t awful here—yet. Just the four of us. I can do it. With a few deep breaths … I can handle brunch with strangers.

“Show me what you want, Roman,” Kent adds food to Roman’s plate after Roman pokes the things he wants with his finger.

I keep reminding myself I’m first in line, and clearly there will be no second trip for me, even if I do like the food. It’s not that I don’t adore Romeo, but I know darn well the chances that he spent most of the ride to their house with that same finger stuck up his nose are pretty good.

“Stop touching everything, silly.” Lori rolls her eyes at Roman. “We have company, and I don’t think your friend, Dorothy, wants your little fingers touching all the food.”

A small amount of bile works its way up my throat. I just want to ignore his fingers and stay one step ahead of them without imagining eating toddler contaminated food.

“It’s a little chilly out, but we have the porch heaters on, so you can head out that door.” Kent nods to the door that he and Roman came through earlier.

“Okay.” I head out the door and take a seat on one of the comfy outdoor chairs. After I steady my plate on my lap, I text Dr. Hawkins.

Me: I didn’t get your message in time. I’m at your parents’ house. Hope you’re going to make it soon. Don’t kill a patient to get here, but please hurry. (grinning face with sweat emoji)

“I sit by Dorfee!” Roman crawls into the chair next to me.

“Maybe you should sit at your table. It might be easier for you to eat, buddy.” Kent puts Roman’s plate on the little table in the corner of the porch.

“No! Listen, Papa, listen! I sit by Dorfee!”

Tags: Jewel E. Ann Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net